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The Farmerette 



Price, 25 Cents 




COPYRIGBTT. 1888, BY WALTER H. BAKER & OO. 



Br W. Pitiero's Plays 

Price, Meaito€a<9i 

TOT AMA70NQ Vwm Ib Btiw Xota. 8«v«a ma)M, fire te. 
Flays atatt 



THE CABINET MINISTER 253. •inn«i£2: 2S 

•bom*, modern sootety ; BOtamrj, Oiree t»Cttrlan. Flays a full er«BlBg> 

fVAMnV TMCir Faroe in Tkane Aeto. 8«T«n bu1«8, four f*- 
VAni/I i/ii^E^ males. OosTmBMS^modani; so«i«f7,twotn(*- 
■fan. Flays two hoan and * ImH. 

THE GAY LORD QUEX gnSST'SiiSSiSlSSS^ 

■SSEiery, iyjo interiors and an extetior. Plays a fnll er^dng. 

ni5 nUu5£i In UnUUi four f<miales. Costumes, modern; 
soensry, three interiors. Flays a ftUl ev^dny. , 

TMI7 UASmV IIAKllCr Comedy in Tbree Aots. Ten males, 
IfiL nVODl nUAdZ. five females. Costumes, modem j 
scenery easy. Plays two hours and a half. 

■ni^ Drama in Fire Aots. Seven males, seven females. Costumes, 
lIvUI modem ; scenery, three interiors. Plays a full evening. 

I snV DATTMTIITITf Play In Four Acts. Eight males, Sevan 
UUII OUUrillrUL females. Oostomes, modem; soen* 
ery, four interiors, not easy. Plays a fuU evening. 

I V^TV I>rama in Four Acts and an Epilogue. Ten males, five 
Ubi 1 1 females. Costumes, modem; scenery complicated. 
Flays a full evening. 

TUT M k nCTO ATT Faroe in Three Acts. TwelvS males, 
IriEi mAuldltiAlEi four femnlee. Costumes, nodera; 
all interior. Plays two hours and a haU. 



Sent prepaid on receipt of price by 

Salter ^. liaber & Company 

No. 5 Hamilton Place, Boston, Massachusetts 



The Farmerette 

A Play in Three Acts 



By 
EVELYN GRAY WHITING 

duthor of ''Mrs. Briggs of the Poultry Tard^' 

"y/ Girl in a Thousand^'' ''Gone Abroad^'' 

"Deception s IVeb^' etc. 



BOSTON 
WALTER H. BAKER & CO 
1914 



y^l^^ 



The Farmerette 



W^'^^^ 



CHARACTERS 

(/« order of entrance) 

Jane Wellington, sixteen and still " unkissed:' 

JOCELYN Wellington, fourteen or fifteen years old; the little 
Bugologist. 

Elnora Wellington, a girl of nifieteen or twenty ; a born home- 
maker. 

Mrs. Beckwith, a woman of sixty or seventy; an unfriendly neigh- 
bor. 

Nan Wellington, a dainty blonde of twenty-two ; the Farmerette. 

Minnette Wellington Lawson. older than Nan and in good con- 
trast ; an admirer of soulful eyes. 

Gracious Ann Bean, a stout, middle-aged colored " pusson "; a 
believer in ' ' Calicothenics. ' ' 




Copyright, 1914, by- Walter H. Baker & Co. 

S)Cl.D 37867 
AUG 17 1914 

TMP92-007498 



The Farmerette 



ACT I 



SCENE. —A sitting-room in the Wellington Homestead. Boors 
C. aftd R. Windows r. and l. of door c. Mantelpiece with 
mirror, candlesticks, etc. , r. Large old-fashioned sofa across 
corner down l. with faded sofa pilloivs. Desk r. at back. 
Tea-table r. c. A square table c. with work-basket piled 
high with^ sewing, magazines, etc. Large chairs R. and L. 
Old-fashioned pictures on wall^some of them portraits. 

(At rise of curtain Jane Wellington '/V seated "Si. patching 

pillow slip. JocELYN Wellington e?iters c. She wears 
man's cocit, short skirt, overshoes, a pale blue chiffon veil 
over head and boxifig gloves.) 

Joe. Of all the exasperating things a hen is — it. 

Jane. What's the matter now ? 

Joe. Just look at me. {Takes brush from desk.) It may 
be a good idea to keep the hen-house full of ashes so the hens 
will dust themselves but I'll be hanged if I want them to dust 
me. (Stands in doorway e. a7id brushes herself.) I tried to 
get that skinny little gray hen. 

Jane. Gray hen. Who ever heard of a gray hen ? 

Joe. Well, plaid hen, if you like that better. She's a 
mixture of black that isn't black and white that isn't white- 
some kind of a mongrel. 

Jane. It's the one I call ''Puss." 

Joe. {coming dow?i). I tried to get '' Puss " in a corner. I 
grabbed her by the front legs, the hind legs, the feathers on her 
back and her pompadour but still she would get away from me. 
{Acts out scene.) Not until I crawled on my hands and knees 
in those ashes did I corner her underneath the roost. 

Jane. Then I hope you were satisfied. 

Joe. {contemptuously). Satisfied ! She flew up on the roost, 



4 THE FARMERETTE 

Stepped onto tlie top of my liead, skipped down my back and 
out the hen-house door, leaving a trail of dust like a cyclone. 

Jane. What were you doing ? 

Joe. Spitting ashes and blessing ^'Pussie." Now she's 
down in the meadow giving me the ha, ha. 

(^Si/s L. and admires boxing gloves.') 

Jane. What are yoii wearing those for ? 

Joe. To protect myself from '< Pussie's " temper. Since 
that rooster pecked me I haven't liked to get too familiar with 
poultry but now I am as brave as a lion. It would be a sharp 
beak that could peck through these. {Takes off veil and 
smoothes it out.') I wish I had a willow plume. 

Jane. What would you do with a willow plume? 

Joe. Admire it. Think how nice it would be to have 
something to wear it on, something to wear it with and some 
place to go. 

Jane (standing jip and sorti?ig pile of stockings). You 
might sew up that slit in your skirt. 

Joe. {rising and drawing herself up proudly). This is the 
very latest. The fire-escape skirt. One can run in time of 
danger. 

Jane. I should want to if I wore that — before any one saw 
me. 

Joe. No one sees me but the postman and a few cows. 
{Crosses to Jane.) Say, do you think I am going to stay here 
all my life ? 

Jane {jnending stockings). Aren't you? 

Joe. If I do it will be because I can't walk. When I read 
of girls out in the world earning six dollars a week it makes me 
just green with envy. 

Jane. Nan earns twenty. 

Joe. ( pretending to faint falls on to sofa). Twenty dollars ! 
I don't wonder she forgets she has sisters. Show me twenty 
dollars and I'd forget her. Ough ! {Rubs head.) An idea 
hit me : I think Nan is stingy. 

Jane. Don't you dare say that. There is some good rea- 
son why Nan doesn't send us money. 

Joe. She ought not to have gone back to the city after 
mother died. 

Jane. Yes, she ought. The money she sent helped more 
than her work on the farm. She may be sick and won't write 



THE FARMERETTE 5 

for fear of worrying us. Jocelyn Wellington, you had better 
be thinking of something besides willow plumes. 

Joe. What to wear at Nan's funeral ? That would be a 
cheerful subject. (^As Jane ifakes up another stocking Joe. 
snatches it.) Don't mend my stockings. I'll wear them till 
the hole in the heel gets up over the top of my boot. 

{^Ties stockings with string and hangs them around waist.) 

Jane. What is that for ? 

Joe. So I will remember to take them up-stairs. I never 
forget things when they are tied to me. (^Exitj c. ; reenters.') 
Here's Elnora. 

Enter Elnora Wellington, q. ^wearing long coat, felt hat and 
drivifig gloves. Comes down L. and throws herself into 
chair exhausted. 

Jane. What's the news ? 

(El. takes letters from coat pocket and gives them to Jane.) 

El. The grocer has refused to let us have anything more 
until the bill is paid. I told him we were expecting money 
from Minnette or Nan but he only smiled. Oh! (^Clinches 
hands.) It was so humiliating. (JBuries face in her hands.) 

Jane {after looking through letters). No letter from Nan 
and only this sniffy thing from Minnette, saying she is sorry 
she cannot " aid " us but Timothy is exasperated with us for 
not trying to sell the farm. A nice sisterly letter. So full of 
sympathy. 

Joe. Who wants sympathy? We want cash. Minnette 
wouldn't give us money if she had it. She would need some 
white gloves or a necklace. 

Jane {turfiing on Joe.). Or a willow plume. 

Joe. Oh, stop your knocking. I know I'm selfish but when 
the grocer had shut down on my orphan sisters — the food, 
clothes-pins and stove blacking taken right out of their mouths 
— I would send them a lead cent with a hole in it and that is 
more than sister Minnette would do. 

El. [umvinding muffler and taking off hat). I am glad she 
is settled in life. I wish Nan was married. 

Joe. Don't wish matrimony on Nan. She's got troubles 
enough. 



6 THE FARMERETTE 

Jane. Minnette says she'll come down to-day. 

El. {throiving letters 07i table). All those bills and nothing 
to pay them with. Potatoes and mush for us the rest of the 
winter. 

Joe. Good food for pigs and the pigs would die on it. 
When we get tired of potatoes and mush we can have mush 
and potatoes. 

El. What were you doing with boxing gloves ? 

Joe. Guarding myself from creditors. Even the hens pre- 
sent their bills. {^Throws herself on sofa.) Brother-in-law 
Timothy is a wise boy. We ought to sell this farm. 

El. {risi?ig ifidignantly). I would starve first. 

Joe. Well, I guess you will and we'll have to starve with 
you. I had rather die from a square meal. 

Jane. We can't sell the farm without Nan's consent and 
you know she will never consent to it. 

El. {taking off coat). Nan has the old family pride and I 
love her for it. {Ha?igs coat off r.) It is no cheap pride, 
girls, the pride in honor and achievement — in an ancestry 
without a blot on it. ( Crosses l.) To think that this is the old 
Wellington Homestead, that here our grandparents lived and 
worked, that the place dates back to the Revolution. It is 
wonderful — simply wonderful. 

Joe. It seems uncanny. 

El. To hold onto it in face of all kinds of temptation — of 
bitter want. They were thinking of us, girls — of their progeny. 
{Stops in fro7it of old portrait.) We are Daughters of the 
Revolution and we're going to win out. But how? How? 

Joe. If we can't sell the place we might mortgage it. 

El. We all know what that means. Mother worked for 
years to pay off the last mortgage. {Crosses R.) I would like 
to see the beauty of this old place revived and I am willing to 
work with any one who will try to do it. 

Joe. I am willing to work with any one who will get me a 
willow plume. 

El. {at window^.). There isn't a lovelier place in this part 
of the country. Girls, there is a team coming up. {Pause.) 
It is old Mrs. Beckwith. 

Joe. {peeking out windows L., makes gesture of disgust). 
Excuse me. {Runs across r. and exits r.) 

El. (coming doiun r.). What can she be coming here for? 

Jane {straightening things on table nervously). To nose 
around and say mean things about Nan. 



THE FARMERETTE 7 

(Jane dusts table with clean sheet and throws sheet back of 
sofa. El. throws boxing, gloves after it. They assume 
air of indifference as Mrs. Beckwith alters c) 

Mrs. B. Well, well, is it your habit to leave the doors open 
to let the heat out and the cold in ? 
El. Was the door open ? 

(El. ^«^ Jane excha?ige looks of disgust as Mrs. B. comes 
down front.') 

Mrs. B. It is a pity you haven't some one to look after 
you. Lizzie Pendleton said the grocer shut down on you 
to-day. You are running things into the ground, of course, 
the way we all knew you would. 

El. (cofning down l.). By <*we" I suppose you mean the 
Sewing Circle. Can't they find any other topic for discussion? 

Mrs. B. (^sitting on sofa). We are curious to see how long 
you will hold out. Have you heard from Nan ? 

El. No. 

Mrs. B. {loosening furs). And I guess you won't. (Sur- 
veys them i?isolently.) Nan has probably washed her hands of 
the whole crowd. 

Jane {coming down r.). Won't you please leave Nan out 
of the conversation ? 

Mrs. B. No, little Miss Jane, I will not. If your dear 
sister would stay at home where she belongs she wouldn't make 
herself a subject of conversation. 

Jane. Oh, yes, she would. {Crosses l.) Because she is 
young and won't be sat on, nor take advice from people {close 
to Mrs. B. and hurling words at her) who think they know 
everything. 

Mrs. B. (arrogantly). Indeed ! If you close your eyes to 
Nan's actions other people won't. We all know Nan has been 
on the stage. How many men do you suppose are making love 
to her ? 

El. (indifferently f as she straightens things in work basket ) . 
As many as she will allow. 

Mrs. B. (more angered by El.'s indifference than Jane's 
contempt). You seem to think it a joke. 

El. It is really. She is so indifferent to them. 

Mrs. B. Well, I didn't come here to talk about Nan. 

Jane (coming down r.). You usually do. (Sits r. c.) 

Mrs. B. (casting angry glance at Jane, addresses herself 



8 THE FARMERETTE 

to El.). Your family seems peculiarly lacking in civility. I 
came here to talk over a matter of business. I am glad Jocelyn 
is out of the way. 

(Joe. looks in R.) 

Joe. Oh, you are? (Co?fies down r.) 

El. {motioning her to chair'). Jocelyn, sit down. 

(Joe. drops into chair ^ giving effect of being all arms and legs.) 

Mrs. B. (ignoring all but El.). It may interest you to 
know that your mother died owing me three hundred dollars. 

El. {incredulotisly). No. 

Jane {indig?iafitly). She didn't. 

Joe. (wonder i?igly). How could she? 

El. Your husband was here the week before she died. She 
paid him all up then. 

Mrs. B. She paid him, you say? Did you see her pay 
him? 

El. Why, no. 

Mrs. B. Did any one else see her pay him ? 

El. Not that 1 know of. 

Mrs. B. (slowly and efijoying the effects of her words). 
Well, among my husband's effects I found her note for three 
hundred dollars. (Shows note.) Isn't that your mother's 
handwriting ? 

(All crowd around her as she crosses c. ) 

El. Yes, it is mother's writing. He may have given her a 
receipt for the money and neglected to destroy the note. 

Joe. We must have the receipt here somewhere. 

Mrs. B. (turning on Joe). I am addressing myself to 
Elnora. 

Joe. (gazing at her defiantly). Well, I am addressing my- 
self to you. I say, we must have the receipt here somewhere. 

Mrs. B. Then produce it. I am not trying to make you 
pay the money a second time but I want what belongs to me. 

El. (to Jane). I have been through all of mother's papers. 

Mrs. B. (sitting back and foldifig hands complacently). The 
money was never paid. 

El. I feel sure it was. 



THE FARMERETTE 9 

Mrs. B. We are not going by feelings. We are going by 
proof. {Flourishes note.) Here is my proof. Where is yours? 

El. Mother said everything was paid. 

Mrs. B. Pshaw ! A sick woman ! She didn't know what 
she was saying or had forgotten. 

Jane. Mother never forgot debts. 

Mrs B. (t'ising). When Nan comes you can tell her I was 
here. I wanted her to share this little surprise. {Goes up c.) 
When she does come. {Looks back scornfully.) When she 
does. 

[Exit, c. As a vent for her feelings Joe. shies book after 
her. It should be apparent that she does not mean to hit 
Mrs. B.) 

Joe. Spiteful old cat ! I don't believe a word she said. 

El. I am afraid it is true. I never knew where the money 
came from to pay off that mortgage. {Despairingly.) Three 
hundred dollars ! 

Jane {incredulously). Three hundred dollars ! 

Joe. {stamping angrily). Three hundred dollars ! {Her 
manner chafiges to cheerfuhiess.) Don't let that jar you. I'd 
like to owe her three hundred dollars. 

Jane. We don't mind the owing, it's the paying. 

Joe. As we haven't got anything to pay with the joke is on 
her. (Nan Wellington enters c. She wears becoming suit 
a?id hat and carries suit-case. Joe. rushes at her.) Oh, Nan I 

{Others hug and kiss Nan.) 

Jane. Did you meet Mrs. Beckwith ? 
Nan {coming dow?i c.). I did not. I was spared that 
pleasure. {Puts suit-case o?t chair.) 

Joe. {coming down l.). We've got the most awful news. 

(jANE/^/i- hand over Joe.'s mouth.) 

Nan. Has anything happened ? 

El. {cofning down r.). No, no. (Gives ]0Q. slight shake.) 
Nan {looking from one to the other). Nobody sick? You 
are all here. Seems so strange not to see mother. I shall 
never get used to it. {Goes up and pretends to look at picture 
to hide emotion. Recovers herself and comes doicn c.) For- 
give me. I don't want to give you the blues, but your all 



10 THE FARMERETTE 

rushing at me that way and mother not with you (Sifs 

R. c.) I have been sick and kind of lost my grip on things. 

El. You have been sick ? 

Nan. in the hospital ; threatened with pneumonia. 

Jane {^putting het- arms around her). You poor girl. 

Nan {risi?ig resolutely). Oh, no, no, no. I am all right. 
(^Faces about nervously.) How are things going? 

Jane. First-rate. 

El, About the same. 

Joe. (/;/ loud voice). Worse. Awful. 

Nan {stopping suddenly). Who is telling me the truth? 

El. All of us. 

Jane. First-rate because winter is here and we haven't 
starved yet. 

El. About the same because we get behind more than we 
get ahead. 

Joe. Worse because old lady Beckwith just landed on us. 

Nan {removing hat). You haven't shed her yet? 

(Jane/z^/j- hat on desk.) 

Joe. No; she always comes once a week to prod us about 
you. To-day she slammed us with three hundred dollars. 

Nan {holding 07ito chair). Gave you three hundred dollars ? 

Joe. {derisively). Gave us three hundred dollars. Does 
that sound like her ? She says we owe her three hundred 
dollars — that mother borrowed of Mr. Beckwith to lift the 
mortgage. Mrs. Beckwith has a note for it, and we haven't any 
receipt. 

Nan. Well, I know the note was paid. 

El. You! What do you know about it? 

Nan {taking off coat, throws it o?i table). It was my money 
that paid it. {They all gather around her.) 

Jane. Why, how could you earn all that ? 

Nan. I didn't earn it. I borrowed it in order that mother 
should die happy. I have been in the hands of money sharks 
— fiends demanding exorbitant interests — ever since. After ilie 
funeral I had to go back to earn the money. Many a night I 
have gone hungry to bed. 

Joe. {to Janej. And I said she was stingy. 

Nan {throwing herself into chair, l. c.). How I hate 
debts. 

Joe. {crossing to Nan). So do I; and I hate working on 



THE FARMERETTE II 

the farm, but you are the stuff heroes are made of, and if you 
want me to keep pigs and hoe potatoes, I will do it for you. 

{Gives Nan her hand.) 

Nan. Thank you, Jocelyn. That is encouraging. {Turns 
to others.) We have got to work this farm, girls, for all it is 
worth. 

Joe. Raise poultry, Nan, raise poultry. {Runs up to desk.) 
It's dead easy, and it pays. {Takes paper from desk.) I've 
got it all figured out. {Comes down o,. with paper.) Start 
with a thousand eggs, hatch a thousand chickens, they lay 
another thousand eggs, and we have another thousand chick- 
ens. Why, Nan, we'd be rich. 

Nan. Sounds good, doesn't it? {Looks at paper.) But 
chickens are like people. Some are unreliable. I wouldn't 
place my future in the hands of a chicken any more than in that 
of a bank cashier. 

Jane. Well, they can't abscond. {Hangs coat off r.) 

Nan. Can't they? They can abscond into your neighbor's 
onion patch, over any fence you'll put up, and under any fence 
you'll put down. Believe me, hens are born bank cashiers on 
absconding. 

El. Then what are you going to farm ? 

Nan. Anything that will feed us until we can specialize. I 
have been studying books on poultry and agriculture. Farm- 
ing is a woman's work as much as a man's. There are so many 
things that need care and patience. 

Joe. But it's so tiresome. 

Nan. Of course. But we may as well <' make the most of 
the spot whereon we stand." When we go into unfamiliar sur- 
roundings we encounter unfamiliar difficulties. 

Jane. Hamlet up to date. {Ranti?ig as she comes down e.) 
''Better to bear these ills we have than fly to others that we 
know not of." 

Nan. Exactly. 

El. Girls, we had better be looking after the stock. {To 
Nan.) That hired man is drunk again. You lie down and 
rest or unpack your things, {They exeunt, e. 

Nan {opening suit-case that contains only a pink fla?i7iel 
night gown y a bottle of cough syrup a?id a spoon.) It won't 
take me all day to unpack. ( Takes inediciue and makes a face.) 
That ought to cure me. It tastes bad enough. {Rolls up 
nightgown.) I wonder what they would say if they knew my 



12 THE FARMERETTE 

clothes were attached for my board bill ? {Puts cough syrup 
and spooti 071 7?ia?itelpiece, then crosses to de^k and looks through 
pigeonholes.') Three hundred dollars. 

(MiNNETTE Wellington Lawson rushes in c. She wears 
expensive furs y a velvet coat, satin dress, white kid gloves, 
afid a picture hat.') 

MiN. Dear, dear, what a cold ride, {Goes to mirror.) Is 
my hat ruined ? 

Nan {crossing to her with outstretched arms). Minnette, 
I am so glad you've come. 

MiN. {avoidifig her). Well, I'm not. Why will you live in 
such a horrible place? I met Jocelyn with a lamb in each 
hand, and a hen under each arm. Such a pretty girl, too; it's 
a shame. 

Nan (laughing). Jocelyn certainly must have been busy. 
{Turns her cheek to Min., whimsically.) Aren't you going to 
kiss me? 

(Min. gives Nan's cheek a peck, and returns to mirror.) 

Min. These horrid winds. They ruin one's complexion. 

Nan {coming down l.). As yours is made to order it won't 
suffer much. 

Min. {turning on her indignantly). What do you mean ? 

Nan. Better have a good light, dear, when you put on that 
rouge. 

Min. {mortified). Does it show — really? 

Nan {indifferently). Sure. 

Min. Well, every one makes up now. {She sits r. Takes 
vanity bag and squall mirror from muff and poivders her nose.) 
How long are you going to stay ? 

Nan {crossing l.). Forever. 

Min. What ! 

Nan {sitting on sofa with arms behind her head). Until the 
farm falls apart. 

Min. It did that long ago. Timothy wants me to put it in 
the hands of his real estate agent. I said I would have to con- 
sult you first. {Replaces inirror and bag.) 

Nan. We are not going to sell the farm. I am going to try 
my hand at farming. 

Min. a frail, delicate girl like you? 

Nan. I am a frail, delicate girl in the city, and being shut 



THE FARMERETTE I 3 

up in an office breathing electric fan tobacco smoke or scream- 
ing my lungs out in a chorus didn't help much. Singing and 
dancing look like good fun, but believe me, it's work. 

MiN. (rising and taking of coat impatiently). You will 
starve. 

Nan. I have starved on twenty per. When silk stocknigs 
and satin pumps become a necessity so do stale sandwiches and 
beans. In the city you want just everything. Here you don't 
want much of anything, and you don't have it, so you are all 

MiN. You will regret your decision. 

Nan. I usually do. 

MiN. {walking about ifnpatiently), I shan't waste my breath 
on you. 

Nan (at witidow, l.). No, don't. Look out this window. 
Isn't the view beautiful ? 

(Min. looks out window, then shrugs shoulders and comes 
down c.) 

Min. Nothing but sky and trees and hills. 

Nan (coming down r.). You would pay fifty dollars for it 
on canvas. When you have had enough artificial life you may 
learn to appreciate the real thing. I am glad I am down out 
of the spotlight, and back to dear old mother earth. 

Min. You talk like a catalogue for New England farms. 

Nan (putting ar77is around Min.). Forgive me for talking 
Nature to you. I am going to make you some tea. 

(Takes teapot from table and exits , c. Min. looks at arti- 
cles on mantelpiece?) 

Min. The idea of their keeping these things just because 
they are heirlooms. They could get a good price for them. 

(Nan reenters with steaming teapot, comes doivn and puts it 
on table, tmcovers crackers, etc.') 

Nan. Tell me about Tim. 

Min. (sitting l. of table, taking off gloves). Don't call him 
Tim. It is so common. 

Nan. (sitting back of table). Excuse me — Tim-o-thy. 
What is he doing? 

Min. Everybody. He is all business.- When he isn't get- 



14 THE FARMERETTE 

ting business or trying to get business, he is complaining about 
the business he didn't get. 

Nan. Doesn't he go out with you at all? 

MiN. No, and I couldn't be bothered with him. I thought 
he would let me be a partner and helpmate, but 1 found I was 
only another creditor. I followed him half-way down the steps 
to get the money for this hat. (^Removes hat and examhies it 
critically.) If I can't have any of my husband's society I am 
going to have most of his money. 

Nan {pouring tea, passing crackers, etc.). What do you 
do with yourself? 

MiN. Play bridge, go automobiling, exhibit Fido at dog 
shows. Timothy won't take any interest in a home when I 
make one and of course I haven't any interest in his business. 

Nan (^putti7ig ar?ns around her). Dear, I never dreamed 
you were so unhappy. 

Min. {freeing herself impatiently). Nonsense. Who ever 
said I was unhappy? We are playing the Great American 
Game. 

Nan. There is Irish enough in me never to play it. 

Min. The men say they are working themselves to death 
for us extravagant wives. We women want our husbands, but 
we don't get them ; so we do the next best thing. 

Nan (ironically). Exhibit Fido. 

Min. Of course every one blames the undomestic woman. 
What about the undomestic man ? Can you imagine Timothy 
chopping wood for exercise with golf links twenty miles from 
here? He'd pay ten dollars for a team to get him over there 
and then groan about the high cost of living. 

Nan. Have some more tea. 

Min. Don't think I am blaming Timothy. It is, as I said, 
the Great American Game. Business carries a man along till 
he is like a child running around a stump. He doesn't know 
whether he is ahead of or behind himself. I might get you 
some money if you would give up this old shack. 

Nan. Well, I won't. It is a home, Minnette, and I have 
learned to appreciate a home. 

Min. Then I am going to leave you to your own de- 
struction. 

Nan. Not destruction. Say salvation. 

Min. Salvation. You are getting really mushy. Whoever 
got salvation from potatoes nnd beans? 

Nan. As many as ever got it from bridge and dog shows. 



THE FARMERETTE I5 

MiN. (^jerking her coat on). If you are going to be hateful 
I had better go. I had an appointment with my dressmaker 
which I broke for you. Now, I've got to take that horrible 
ride again. I hope you will have good luck, but I know you 
won't. (^Powders nose.) I wish mother hadn't been so foolish 
about this place. 

Nan. She wasn't foolish. She wasn't foolish. Above 
everything in the world I want a home. Not a place to hang 
up my hat but a real, live, truly home. A place where my 
own footprint on mother earth belongs to me. 

MiN. {goifig tip c). Well, good-bye. Work yourself to 
death if you want to, but don't blame me. 

Nan. No, Minnette, I shall never blame you (Min. exits c. ) 
nor thank you — for anything. {Comes down c.) 

Enter Joe, c, followed by Jane and El. They all wear 
colored aprons which are filled with kindling, sweaters 
and red stocking caps. 

Joe. You didn't let her jar you? {Comes down c.) You 
are going to stay ? 

Nan. Stay ! Well, I rather guess I am. (Joe. drops wood 
on floor and rushes down e., kneels and throws her arms 
around Nan's waist in ecstasy of delight. Jane comes down 
R. El. l.) I am going to be a full-fledged Farmerette. 



CURTAIN 



ACT II 

SCENE. — The same. The time early evetiifig of December 
24th. The room is in disorder. 

{At rise of curtain El. is seated r., Jane l. sewing.^ 

Jane {springing up a?id hiding sewing under sofa pillow'). 
I thought I heard some one. {Loud voices off c.) What is 
all that noise? 

(El. goes up and looks off c. Nan enters c, followed by 
Joe. Nan and Joe. wear sweaters and woolen caps. 
Nan comes down e.) 

El. {coming doiun r.). What is the matter? 

Joe. {coming doivn l.). Why have you discharged Jim? 

Nan. Because he tried to kiss me. 

Jane. I wish he had tried to kiss me. Sixteen and still 
unkissed. 

Joe. He was lovely. He was teaching me to dance. 

Nan {severely). It was time he went. 

Jane. Jocelyn and I were going to draw lots to see who 
would elope with him. {Goes up to Nan.) Have you got his 
address ? 

Nan. If I ever hear of your writing to him I'll — spank you. 

{Exit c, followed by Joe.) 

Jane {coming down l., throtving herself on sofa dis- 
gustedly'). She has ruined our prospects. There isn't another 
marriageable man for miles. 

El. {holding up waist on which she has been working). I 
hope Jocelyn will like this. Anyhow it will be a present. We 
couldn't let Christmas go by unnoticed. 

Jane {taking sewi7ig from under pilloiv resumes work). It 
will be the lonesomest day in the year. \{ we could have had 
a turkey or a Christmas tree or anything Christmassy. 

El. I am glad I made the plum pudding. 

16 



THE FARMERETTE 17 

Jane. Plum pudding and mush. {Makes face.) Deli- 
cious ! 

Enter MiN., C, wearing long coat, picture hat, veil and furs. 
She carries hand-bag. Raises veil as she comes down c. 

MiN. (tearfully). Oh, girls! Oh, girls, I have left 
Timothy. We have quarreled. I shall never go back to hun, 
never. My heart is broken. 

Jane {as she draius her down to chair l. c). Why, Mm- 

MiN He wouldn't give me that pearl necklace for Christ- 
mas and I told him if I had married Mr. Carleton I would have 
had just everything. {Bursts Into tears.) Tmiothy wanted 
to know why in thunder I didn't marry him. 

Jane (consolingly). Oh, Tim was cross. 

MiN. Cross ! He was raving. Just because I said Mr. 
Carleton might have been my soul mate. 

El. {disgustedly). Oh, Minnette ! 

MiN. Well, he might have been. He has such lovely eyes. 

Jane. You must go back. You can't leave Timothy on 

Christmas Eve. ,ri , j r ^i. 

Mm. Can't I ? I just will. {Rocks herself back arid forth, 
despairingly.) I am going to stay here forever— on this miser- 
able old farm— with no electric lights or hot water. I had 
rather die. 

El. {crossing and shaking her gently). Minnette, stop this. 
I want you to try and forget Tim and stay with us until you get 
your nerves straightened out. 

Min. {coolly). There is nothing the matter with my nerves. 

El. {resuming former seat). There never was an affinity 
that was not a case of nerves. 

MiN. He is handsomer than Timothy and much more in- 
teresting. Soulful eyes set in a pure white face. A dream of 
a nose. A mouthful of fine white teeth and such a lov-e-ly ex- 
pression. 

Jane. Oh, cut it out. {Puts hands to ears and exit, R. 

Min. {weeping). Timothy has left me alone so much; and 
Fido at the dog show, and the bridge whist crowd all broken 
up. 

El. You needed healthful employment. 

Min. {stamping at her). Employment ! How can you be 
so prosaic ? ( Goes up c. angrily.) You don't know anything 
about an affinity. 



l8 THE FARMERETTE 

El. I do. I have found mine. 

MiN. {coftiing down c. delightedly). Have you ? {Draws 
chair up to hers.) Tell me about him. Is he handsome? 

El. {affectedly). Beautiful. Soulful eyes set in a pure 
white face. A dream of a nose. A mouthful of fine white 
teeth and such a lovely expression. 

MiN. Where did you meet him ? 

El. Bought him over at Plainfield. 

MiN. What are you talking about? 

El. Our old white horse. His soulful eyes beat your 
affinities all out. Fasten your imagination onto a horse or an 
Indian cigar sign, but for goodness sake choose a safe and sane 
affinity. When you have worked on this farm a while you will 
have forgotten all about him. 

MiN. {crossing l., looks about scornfully). How he would 
hate this. 

El. Of course he would. The booby. {Squares shoul- 
ders.) I am twice the man that he is. {Crosses to MiN.) I 
have some soulful eyes, a tooth or two and such a lov-e-ly 
expression. {Makes face.) 

MiN. {putting arms around El.). You do me good, any- 
how. I believe I'll stay. 

El. Take off your coat and come down cellar and see 
Nan's mushrooms. {Goes up c, then turns. ^ We have had 
a stroke of luck. Nan has learned that her Plymouth Rock 
rooster is a thoroughbred, worth fifty dollars. She is going to 
exhibit him at the poultry shows. 

(El. exits C. Min. covers face with hands and sinks into 
chair, l. c, in attitude of despair. Mrs. B. enters c, 
starts at sight of MiN. and looks at her arrogafttly.) 

Mrs. B. When did you come home? 

Min. Just now. {Helplessly.) Is there anything you want? 

Mrs. B. {coming down c). I want three hundred dollars. 

MiN. {going up R.). Well, you must talk to Nan. {Petu- 
lantly.) I can't be bothered. [Exit, r. 

Mrs. B. {looking after her). Just like her. (Nan enters c. 
wearing mafi* s Jufnper atid an old velvet Tafn o' Shanter. She 
wears working gloves and carries troivel.) So this is Nan? 
I hardly knew you. {Comes down l.) How industrious we 
are — gardening on the twenty-fourth of December. 

Nan {coming doivfi airily, waving trowel). Mushrooms. 
1 have the ancestral bureaus in the cellar filled with mushrooms. 



THE FARMERETTE IQ 

Mrs. B. {ji7ipleasantly). You don't look much like a chorus 
girl. 

Nan. 1 was never a chorus girl. I was a chorus lady. 

i^Lays gloves aiid trowel 07i table.) 

Mrs. B. {regarding her keenly^. Do you expect me to be- 
lieve that a lady would become a chorus singer ? 

Nan. Many do. But I think you came here to discuss 
something beside my profession. Won't you be seated? 

(Sits on arm of chair.) 

Mrs. B. {sitting l., haughtily'). I came here to see if you 
were going to pay that note. 

Nan {looki7Lg at her resolutely). Not until I am quite sure 
that my mother did not pay it. 

Mrs. B. Nonsense. You know she never paid it. Where 
would a sick woman with no friends get three hundred dollars ? 

Nan. From her daughter who was working in the city. I 
sent her that money. 

Mrs. B. You ! 

Nan. Yes. 

Mrs. B. {deliberately). I think you lie. 

Nan {starting up). Mrs. Beck with, you have a right to 
think anything you please but you needn't voice your thoughts 
while you are in my house. 

Mrs. B. Oh-ho, what a sweet temper. {Leans forward 
and looks at her suspiciously.) Tell me, where would a girl 
like you get three hundred dollars ? You had been sending 
money home all along. I should really like to hear something 
more about it. 

Nan. You shall. 

Mrs. B. But not the truth, I dare say. 

Nan. The simple truth. {Crosses L.) I got the money 
as I saw fit to get it. {Resumes seat. Politely but pointedly.) 
Where and how is none of your business. 

Mrs. B. {crossing to her). You shall see whether it is or 
not. You will have to pay that money. 

Nan. Certainly. Unless I can find a receipt for it given 
to my mother by your husband. 

Mrs. B. Why don't you hunt for it? 

Nan. We have hunted. {Rises.) We shall continue to 
hunt. I shall take every day the law allows me on it. 



20 THE FARMERETTE 

Mrs. B. {crossifi^ l.). Then if it is not paid I will cripple 
you. I will put an attachment on all your farm implements 
and your live stock. (^Crosses to Nan, excitedly.) We shall 
see what you will do then, little Miss Wellington. 

Nan (backing slowly up c). If I were you I wouldn't lie 
awake nights thinking about caring for the Wellington live 
stock. You will never have to. (^Stops at door c. aiid says 
77ieaningly.') Good-bye. 

(Mrs. B. takes hint, gives her look of hatred atid exits c.) 

Enter El., k., followed by Jane a?id ]oc. 

El. Nan, where is Hiram? You haven't discharged him, 
too? 

Nan {coming dow 71 l.). Indeed I have. 

El. {co77ti7ig dow7i c. a7ul facijig her acciisi7igly'). What for ? 

Nan. Too much talk. Discoursed all the morning on how 
to sharpen a saw, all the afternoon on how to sharpen an axe, 
but as he was never known to use either I thought it was time 
he had better *'went." 

Joe. {rushi7ig down R.). Don't you think the man could 
do anything ? 

Nan. He could smoke until he set the barn on fire and 
charge his tobacco to us. I never saw him move lively but 
once. 

El. When was that ? 

Nan. When he ran the horse rake into a hornet's nest. 

El. Oh, my ! 

Nan. That was what he said. [Exit, r. 

Joe. (taking sweater fr 0771 top of desk, comes down l. put- 
ti7ig it on). That incubator is worse than any hired man. It 
won't work, it smokes and we have to watch it nights to see 
that it doesn't set the house on fire. 

El. We have to feel its pulse to see that its temperature is 
all right. {Opens button box a7id sorts butto7is.) 

Jane {taking 77iagazines from table). Pulling out that heavy 
tray full of eggs night and morning is as bad as basting a 
turkey for twenty-one days. 

Joe. That's being a cook. That's human. But I draw 
the line at rolling the eggs over and making a hen of myself. 

{Sits on sofa and combs her hair 7vith side co7nbs.) 

El. {sitti7ig R., sews butto?ts on waist). It seems like 



THE FARMERETTE 2t 

hatching eggs in a hurdy-gurdy. How do we expect them to 
amount to anything when they are born orphans? 

Jane. It upsets every theory of eugenics. 

Toe. We'll be lucky if we don't upset anything else. If I 
drop that tray full of eggs save me from Nan. I am going to 
turn the eggs now. Let me get in practice. 

{Cackles like hen, flops arms for wings, struts around 
majestically, then gives tremefidous cackle and exits c.) 

Enter Mm., k., followed by Nan. 

MiN To think you are in debt to that horrible Beck with 
woman. I will go back to Timothy and get him to sell this 

place. ^ ... 

Nan. You will do nothing of the sort. Can you milk a 

cow? 

MiN. I might if you would hold her for me. 

Nan. I will tie her feet to four staples in the barn floor. 

MiN. Then I am sure I can. ^They exeufit, C. 

Jane. Nan will break Minnette all up. 

{Loud noise off C. El. stands in attitude of terror.) 

El. Something more than Minnette is broken up. 
Jane. It's Jocelyn. She's dropped the egg tray ! 

{Sittks onto sofa in despair.) 

Joe. (running in c). Oh, dear; oh, dear; I've dropped 
the eggs. I told you I'd do it. Don't let Nan know. 

El. Why, Jocelyn, of course she will have to know. She 
won't eat you. 

Joe. No, nor the eggs. If only some one could have 
eaten them. If you had wanted a custard as much as 1 have, 
the sight of those eggs would drive you mad. {Cries.) 

Nan {e?iteri?ig e.). Why, Jocelyn, darling ! 

(Comes down to her.) 

Joe. Don't darling me till you hear what I've done. {Trag- 
ically.) 1 have broken the eggs. 

Nan {aghast but controlling herself immediately). Is that 
all ? The' incubator is unharmed ? 

Joe. Why, of course ! 

Nan. Be grateful for that. 



22 THE FARMERETTE 

Joe. {hiiggi?ig her). You angel ! 

Nan. Let us coin a new adage. " There's as good eggs in 
the nest as ever were dropped." (Puts arms arou?id ]oc.') 

MiN. (e7iterifig c, excitedly). Oh, I'm so frightened. That 
dreadful cow. You can't think what she did. {Pause to let 
her words sink tfi.) She looked at me. 

Nan. Dreadful ! But rather worse for the cow than you. 
Jocelyn (kissing her 07i forehead), go and show Minnette how 
to milk. \_E xeuf it ]oc., Min. and^A^.y c. 

Jane. Well, with Jocelyn smashing that tray full of eggs, 
you must own you are beaten. 

Nan. Neither Nan Wellington nor the eggs were beaten. 
I simply know I am going to win. 

Joe. How can you go on deceiving yourself? 

Nan. I am not deceiving myself. If you stood before an 
enraged animal with your knees trembling he would be strange 
if he didn't pounce on you. Your subconscious mind is a sort 
of animal. Admit to it that you are scared, and it will pounce 
on you. There is no better way of informing my subconscious 
mind that I am going to win than by telHng you about it. 

Jane (shaking zip pillows), i wish you would stop talking 
nonsense and tell me how you are going to run this place with 
both hired men gone. If we all go out and work on the farm, 
who is going to do the housework? 

Nan. I don't know. But I never was in a corner that the 
Lord didn't help me out. Of course there must be another 
person here on the farm immediately. {Turns to window de- 
spondently, then comes dow?i triumphantly.) The person is 
knocking at the door now. 

{Exit, c. Reenters with Gracious Ann Bean. Gra. 
wears thick shawl, fur cap atid overshoes, carries um- 
brella, hand-bag and oldfashioned valise.) 

Gra. Ah's cut maself loose, Miss Nan, Ah's cut maself 
loose. Mrs. Beck with said Ah'd got to do all dat washin' and 
all dat bakin' and all dat churnin' and tend de chickuns, and 
she wouldn't 'low me no time to tie up ma head, when Ah was 
so sick Ah couldn't tell de sun from de moon. So dis after- 
noon Ah got ma mad up {flour is hi?ig U7?ibrella), and when 
yo' gets yo' mad up yo' always feels better. 

Nan. Indeed you do. Won't you sit down? 

Gra. {sitting r.). Ah'd be much obliged. She never 
'lowed no servant to sit down in her presence, but consider in' 



THE FARMERETTE 



23 



yo' is a human bein' instead of a mistress, maybe yo' won't 
think Ah's insultin' yo* by bein' on six legs instead of two. 

Jane. What was the trouble, Gracious? 

Gra. Jes' what Ah was tellin' you. Sho's yo* born her 
soul am as black as ma face. Dar ain't no particle of a lady 
about her 'ceptin' her false teeth. 

Nan. Have you really left ? 

Gra. Don't Ah look it? Do yo* suppose Ah's carryin* dis 
stuff 'round jes' for style? No, sah, dis labor problem has got 
to be settled, and whatever side de mistress am on, Ah's on de 
other sidq. (^Comes down c, excitedly.) Dar ain't no trouble 
but jes' dis : If yo* is a servant yo' hires out for a little light 
saddle pony, and de mistress takes yo' for a pack mule. 

Jane. Where are you going ? 

Gra. Ah doan know ; Ah certainly doan know, but Ah's 
on ma way. (^To Nan.) Would yo' min' if Ah left dis bag 
with ma blue dress {opening bag and showing articles)^ ma 
white hat and ma two pairs ob stockings here ? Ah'll take dis 
other with ma extemperanious stuff along with me — ma cr&pe 
veil and ma black gloves. Ah always believes in bein' prepared 
fo' funerals. 

Nan. And you haven't any place in sight? 

Gra. Ah reckon Ah'll go back to de city and sit around in 
a intelligence office. 

Jane. You don't like the country? 

Gra. Like it ! Ah jes' loves it. Any place dat's got a 
buttercup and a daisy is home to me. 

Nan. If I had some money I'd hire you. I know you 
would work well for me. 

Gra, {crossing to her). 'Deed Ah would. Miss Nan. Ah 
does everything but peel onions. Ah neber had no attractions 
for dat. Ah'd work ma hands off fo' yo', and Ah knows yo' 
'low me time to tie up ma he^id. Money jes' doan count with 
me if Ah likes a place. Ah'd like to stay here fo' two reasons 
— love and spite. Love fo' yo', and spite fo' dat old skinflint. 
Mrs. Beckwith ain't got no use for yo' nohow. Yo' look out 
for her. Ah warns yo' — look out for her. {Pleadingly.') Can 
Ah stay here, miss? Ah ain't got no one to love, and Ah'd 
serve yo' faithful. Ah'd jes' as lieve yo'd be ma mistress, 
'cause Ah know you'd be ma friend. 

Nan. Indeed I will, Gracious. You may stay. Life is 
hard enough for us all. It is only by pulling together that we 
can get along. 



24 THE FARMERETTE 

Gra. {j-apiurously). Glory! Glory! Ain't Ah happy ! 
{Fins skirt up aroimd her, seizes valise, etc., ajid exits, R.) 

Jane. Your prayers certainly do get answered. 

Nan. Because they are made in faith. 1 make the best use 
I know how of my mind and body, and leave the rest to a 
Higher Power. We have got to, anyhow. How much better 
to do it wilHngly. 

Jane. Vou will make a fine milkmaid of Minnette. 

Nan. It will take up her mind. ( Goes up to desk.) 

Jane. A cow might kick some of that affinity nonsense out 
of her head. 

Nan {coming down R. with book). Don't cherish any such 
hope. It would take a good lively mule to do that. {Opens 
book on table.) I am studying up about cows. Did it ever 
occur to you that we ought not to keep Jerseys — that they are 
not in their element on this land ? 

Enter Joe, El., and Min., c, wearing overalls, sweaters two 
sizes too large for them, and mefi's slouch hats. They 
carry milking pails. Min. has kept on white kid gloves. 

El. Horrible news. Every cow has gone dry. 

Nan. Well, that needn't make you look like mihtant suf- 
fragettes. 

Joe. If we are going to do men's work we are going to dress 
like them. 

El. Did you hear what I said ? The cows have gone dry. 

Nan. You goose, that can't be possible. 

Joe. I held Pansy by the tail while Minnette tried to milk. 

Nan. If Minnette would take off her kid gloves she might 
prove more persuasive. None of you know how to milk. 
Come and watch little Nannie. 

{All but Jane march down l., across stage and up r., with 
pails on left arms, and sing, " Here we go all in a rozu, 
out to the barn to milk the cow^ Lively march music till 
exeunt, c. Jane watches them off. Gra. pokes head in 
at door, R.) 

Jane. Well, Gracious, are you going to sweep all night? 

Gra. {enterijig ivith broom). Ah reckon Ah could. Miss 
Jane. Ah's so inflated at finding maself in a domicile habi- 
tation. 



THE FARMERETTE 25 

Jane. Wherever did you get the name of Gracious? 

Gra. Ma mammy give me dat name. From ma earliest 
'collections Ah 'member her sayin', " Gracious, Ann Bean, yo' 
stop dat; " or, "Gracious, Ann Bean, what yo' doin' ?" JVIa 
name is engraved on de table ob ma memory, though Ah neber 
had the extinction ob habing it in a telephone book. 

MiN. {entering c). I am not going to waste any more 
strength on those cows. It is cold weather, and their milk is 
simply frozen up. \^Exit, r. 

Gra. If dat's so Ah'll go and thaw 'em out. Ah'll milk 
dem cows if Ah has to use a monkey wrench. {Enter Nan, c.) 
Doan yo' bother with dem cows, Miss Nan. Ah's goin' right 
out to milk 'em fo' yo'. 

Nan. You're a jewel, Gracious. (Gra. exits c. Joe. 
enters c, having retur7ied to feinale attire. y Now, Jocelyn, 
don't talk to me about Christmas. {^Comes down o,.) With 
that note for three hundred dollars staring us in the face we 
have simply got to mark Christmas off the calendar. You do 
the dusting in here — have you looked everywhere for that 
receipt ? 

Joe. Sure. Besides, mother wasn't in this room after she 
got it. 

Nan. You must get busy with those muslins I sent you to 
make up. With all the other work you will just about be ready 
for Fourth of July. 

Joe. And wish every one a Merry Fourth of Ju-Christmas ? 
I feel like sulking but I guess I won't. I will postpone that 
along with the Christmas. 

Enter Min. atid El., r., having returned to female attire. 

Nan {hugging her). Good for you, Jocelyn. Don't any- 
body get a grouch or I shall die. {Sits at table and leans head 
on hands disconsolately.) I tell you I am just longing for 
Christmas, myself— to hang up my stocking just like I was a 
kiddie and I'm lonesome for mother, girls — I'm lonesome for 
mother. {Puts head on arms for moment then looks up 
bravely.) But this isn't right and if mother knows, as I be- 
lieve she does, it must make her heart-sick to look at this group. 
{Rises and slaps them gently on backs.) Brace up, girls, brace 

1 Those who wear overalls should slip skirts over them, owing to short 
interval off stage. 



26 THE FARMERiiTTE 

up. Lots doing, you know, and us moping round like this. 
When you find yourselves getting blue strike up a tune. 

Jane. I wouldn't feel so bad if we all had just one present. 

Nan. I guess we always thought too much about presents. 
This year let us think of the spirit of Christmas — of what the 
day really means — the birth of one who taught patience and 
forbearance. 1 am going to bed. We will let our to-morrows 
take care of themselves. Good-night all. 

{Exit, R. Joe. sifigs " Massa's In the Cold Cold Groundy^ 
in mour7iful wail.) 

Jane. What are you singing that for? 

Joe. Nan told us to sing when we were getting blue. 

El. Well, please select your tunes more carefully. 

[Exit, R. 

Joe. {rising and yawning). What do you think of this for 
a jolly Christmas Eve ? {Slangily in loud voice as she goes 
up R.) Good- night. \^Exii, r. 

Jane. I am not going to bed. I have work to do. 
{Takes box from behifid desk and opens it.) I sneaked off by 
myself and got this evergreen. Want to help me decorate? 

MiN. If it will help me to forget Timothy. 

Jane. Poor boy, he must be having a dull time of it. 

MiN. I don't feel so sure of that. If I did I'd feel better. 

Jane {taking box from desk drawe?-). Here are the Christ- 
mas tree decorations from last year. It's well enough to talk 
about forgetting Christmas but it seems heathenish to do it. 

(MiN. opens box and hangs Christmas bells, etc., while 
Jane tivines evergreen.) 

MiN. I don't wonder at Nan's not having any heart for 
Christmas. She has worries enough. What do you know 
about this Gracious Ann Bean ? 

Jane. Nothing, except that she has worked for Mrs. Beck- 
with a long time. 

MiN. I shouldn't consider that any recommendation. Sup- 
pose she has come here to steal ? 

Jane. She might be one of those new things they call a 
kleptomaniac. You know what I mean — those women who 
pick up things at bargain counters which they haven't the 
slightest use for 

MiN. I know dozens of women who do that. 



THE FARMERETTE If 

Jane (^finishing). And never pay for them. 

MiN. Same thing — they have them charged. 

Jane. You had better go to- bed. 

MiN. (openifig hand-bag). It takes me a good while to get 
ready. (^Takes facial mask and cold cream from bag.) I 
have to massage my neck, go through my exercises, practice 
deep breathing and brush my hair two hundred times. 

Jane. That would take me all night. 

MiN. (^sitting ^., puts on facial mask a?id massages fieck). 
I am glad I am going to sleep with Nan. 1 shall feel safer. 

Jane. 1 shall take mother's spoons and the candlesticks up- 
stairs. (S/io7£/s presents.) 1 have got this for Nan and this 
for Elnora but nothing for you and Jocelyn. 

MiN. Never mind me. If 1 get something to eat it will be 
all I'll ask. 

Jane. Mush and milk, and plum pudding. I do think Nan 
might have let us kill a chicken but she wouldn't listen to our 
eating one of her pets. 

MiN. Timothy says every one is a darn fool on some sub- 
ject. I guess I will go up-stairs. {Takes hand-bag and goes 
up R.) Good-night. \_Exit, r. 

Jane. Good-night. (Stands on sofa and twines picture 
frame with evergreen.) I am going to have a Christmas 
whether any one wants it or not. Now for the stockings. 

{Exit, c. Min. reenters r.) 

MiN. I want something for a curl paper. {Goes to mantel- 
piece and takes paper from vase.) An old receipt. I guess 
nobody wants this. I wonder why they save such things. 

{Tears it in tivo a?td does up front hair a?id exits, R.) 

Jane {entering c. with four filled stockings and one empty one 
and a basket full of oranges, apples, etc. She sits L. and fills 
stocking). I hope Minnette won't object to this darned stock- 
ing. She is lucky to get any. Oh, and I must not forget 
Gracious. I'll hang one for her out in the kitchen. 

{She ties stockings up with strings. Lights are loivered. 
Joe. enters r. weari?ig woolen bathrobe, her hair i?i small 
braids.) 

Joe. Oh, my ! Isn't that lovely? 

Jane. You shouldn't peek. Why aren't you in bed? 



28 THE FARMERETTE 

Joe. {curling up in chair r.). 1 have been thinking — it's a 
shame not to have a chicken to-morrow. Nan would eat it if 
it wasn't one of ours. Couldn't we kill one and let her think 
the Deans sent it over ? 

Jane {Jianging stockings at mantelpiece). We might but 
who wants to do the killing ? Will you ? 

Joe. Of course not, but Gracious would. Those darkeys 
are terribly hard hearted where a chicken is concerned. You 
wait a minute. (^Ru?is up c.) I'll ask her. (^Exit, c. 
Screams heard off e. then Joe. reenters with Gra.) Keep 
still. You will rouse the girls. 

Gra. Sho's yo' live, miss, Ah thought you was a live ghost. 

Jane. Gracious, can you kill a chicken ? 

Gra. Well, Ah ain't exactly certain. Tends on his age 
and agility ob actions and whether he sees me comin'. 
Chickens am powerful contrary critters and is almost always 
where dey ain't. 

Joe. But can you kill one ? 

Gra. Well, speaking from qualifications and general ad 
libitum I should say Ah could, provided he was tame and 
willing. 

Jane. But if he is stuffy and fights ? 

Gra. Den Ah certainly could make way with him. Dar 
ain't no poor little no account chicken goin' to stand up to me. 
No sah, not to Gracious Ann Bean. 

Jane. Then come ahead. We can't starve on Christmas. 
But don't ever let Nan know you killed one. 

[^jc/f///// Jane, Joe. andG'RA., e. 

Enter Nan. r., in dressing gown, followed by Min. iti kimofio 
weariiig facial mask, her hair in braids. 

Nan {looking out window l.). I am sure I heard voices in 
the hen-house. You don't suppose Hiram would be mean 
enough to come back here to steal ? He knows that rooster is 
worth fifty dollars. 

Min. Well, what are you going to do ? If he is there you 
certainly can't stop him. 

Nan. Can't 1 ! You stay here and keep watch. 

{^Crosses r.) 

Min. (cli?igifig to her). Oh, I'm afraid ! 
Nan. The doors are locked. I won't be a second. Don't 
get frightened. Keep your nerve. \^Exif, k. 



THE FARMERETTE 29 

MiN. I haven't any to keep. (^Looks out ivijidow l. Nan 
reenters with gu?i.) Oh, Nan, you aren't going to shoot him. 

Nan. Not unless I have to. - 

MiN. He may kill you. 

Nan. Not if I see him first. Keep back and don't open 
the door, no matter what happens. 

{She exits, c. Min. cowers 07i floor in front of window. 
Screams off c. then Nan staggers in c. Min. runs to 
her.') 

Min. Oh, Nan, are you hurt ? Have you killed any one ? 
Nan {failing into chair c). No. But they have killed 
my prize rooster. 

(Gra., Joe. afid Jane appear in door c. with frightened and 
guilty faces.) 



CURTAIN 



ACT III 
SCENE. — The same. Six months later. 

(Joe. is seated "L. J with two chairs dranni up ifi front of her 
on which rest the g-arden hose and a harness. She is 
making holes in the harness with an awl and mends 
broken places by passing rawhide thongs through the 
holes. She tvears overalls and a jiwiper or lifie?i duster. 
Jane enters drying her hair with towel. She wears plain 
blue line?t dress and sneakers.^ 

Jane. Why didn't you turn the hose off when I wanted 
you to? 

Joe. Do you think I am a mind reader? 

Jank. I hollered at you loud enough. 

Joe. Just when the lambs decided to give a concert. What 
could I hear with them ba-hey-heying ? 

Jane {jhaki7ig her hair). Nan's great on her schemes with 
this windmill hose. I am not going to get soaked. Next 
time she can work it. {Sits c.) 

Joe. Don't be cross, sweetheart. Let me spill an ^gg on 
your head and make it a shampoo. 

Jane. I will take mine poached, thank you. I saw raw 
eggs enough to last me a lifetime when you dropped the incu- 
bator tray. 

Joe. Well, I'd like to drop this harness and hose. I am 
sick of being the repair man. I am glad we haven't any 
automobile. 

Jane. Nan is going to have one so we can carry our garden 
truck over to Concord. 

Joe. That Nan is going to do anything. I suppose she'll 
have the cat on castors. 

Jane {as she ?nends hose with bicycle tape). Her rooster 
has taken the first prize — fifty dollars — at the poultry show. 

Joe. Thank goodness he was under the hen-house and Gra- 
cious didn't slay him for our Christmas dinner. 

Qx^K. {entering <z. holding onto foot). Ough ! Ough ! Dat 
horse step on ma toe. When he's got four feet seems like he 
might do and not have to have five feet to stand on. With all 

30 



THE FARMERETTE 3I 

the world around him he select ma best corn. Ah believe he 
did it out ob pure cussedness. He looked powerful rude at de 
salad Ah give him. 'Specs he'd rather eat a blackberry vine. 

Jane. You mustn't get too close to horses, Gracious. 

Gra. {crossing R.). 'Deed Ah won't. Ah ain't goin' to 
comb him down nor do his tail up in curl papers no more. 
Ah' 11 jes' sweep him with de broom and tickle his nose with it. 
Golly, Ah'll make him sneeze. \_ExU, r. 

(El. enters c. wearing pink apron and sweeping cap. Her 
sleeves are rolled up.) 

El. Oh, girls, I've got an order for six dozen jars of jelly 
from a store in Concord. When you are through with your 
work here {coaxingly), come and help me pare apples. 

Joe. I am through now. 

{Throws harness over her shoulder. Goes vp c.) 

Jane {following her with hose). So am I. \_All exeutit c. 

Enter Min., r., wear i7ig yellow silk kimono. She is followed 
by Gra. carrying wash-bowl^ small pitcher^ comb and 
brush, manicure set and 7nagazine. Min. sits r. Gra. 
puts bowl on chair and fills it with water a?id places other 
articles on table.) 

Gra. Miss Minnette, yo' sho does take pretty care ob 
yourself. 

Min. I have to. A girl who is teaching fancy dancing in 
a village like this must appear like a lady, not a drudge. It is 
fortunate that I took fancy dancing when I was first married. 
By giving these lessons I have been able to pay Nan for my 
board. 

Gra. Shall I do your hair now? 

Min. Yes, only don't let the girls catch you. They say a 
maid is an affectation, but I have always wanted one. I will 
pay you the fifty cents I owe you Saturday. Give me my 
book. 

(Gra. passes magazine, then combs Min.'s hair during the 
following dialogue.) 

Gra. (laughing). Miss Minnette, yo' is always readin' dat 
book. 

MiN. Yes, it tells how to be beautiful. I used to practice 



32 THE FARMERETTE 

the arms exercise {illustratmg)^ holding my arms up high with 
Fido jumping for meat. It is a shame to keep Fido down in 
the pasture. 

Gra. Yo' didn't like it no better when he was up here in a 
cage. Miss Nan couldn't have him eating up her hens, 

MiN. She needn't be so stingy. She might spare him a 
few. {Stretches her arms and twists wrists arozmd.^ I would 
like to take a course in calisthenics. It is fine to develop 
oneself. 

Gra. Calicothenics, miss? Ah neber heard tell ob dat. 

MiN. Fido and I used to practice elocution. He has a 
beautiful bark. 

Gra. He'll get plenty ob practice for his yellocution down 
dar in de pasture. 

MiN. Oh, dear ! I am afraid the chipmunks will eat 
him up. 

{Noise off c. Gra. drops comb o?i table, crosses l. a?id 
dusts with apro7i as Nan enters c, wearing overalls a?id 
jumper or linen duster and followed by El. and Joe. 
MiN. reads magazine through the followi7ig dialogue with 
one hand in wash-bowl.) 

Nan. This is certainly going to be a great crop of apples, 
girls. All because we sprayed the trees when the blossoms 
were open and didn't neglect the under part of the leaves. 
We shall be known as Lucretia Borgias on poisoning. Mr. 
Mayne wants Jocelyn to take care of his crops next year. 
Every one says she is the only one who knows how to extermi- 
nate grubs and wireworms. They call her the little Bugologist. 

Joe. I have come into a title without marrying a duke. 

El. The Deans have never been able to raise corn on that 
land before. This year their corn-fields are a wonder. Jocelyn, 
you gave them the secret of success — what was it ? 

JoeELYN. Simple enough when you know how. The wire- 
worm usually attacks the newly sown seed. So I made the 
farmers coat the first lot ihey sowed with gas tar and Paris 
Green. The wireworms fed upon the first lot, died off and the 
second lot was planted. We have some of the finest corn in 
this county that was ever raised, thanks to little Jocelyn. 

\^Exit, e. 

Nan. Gracious, will you go down to ihe spring house and 
get the butter? \Exit Gra. c. 



THE FARMERETTE 33 

El. Everything seems to be going well. If we could only 
get the best of that Beckwith woman. I am glad we decided 
to keep this place. 

Nan. We have no right to sell it. I am not thinking 
merely of us girls. With five of us there is likely to be an heir 
some day. 

MiN. {derisively). Whose heir will he be — yours ? 

Nan. {complacently'). Perhaps. If I marry a man who is 
fit to be his father. 

MiN. Pshaw ! You talk about a Wellington as you would 
a pig. {Manicures fi?iger-nails.) 

Nan. I think a Wellington deserves as much careful fore- 
thought. A child really ought to be able to choose his own 
grandparents. But he should first be educated in selection. 

MiN. Oh, do stick to poultry and pigs and leave children 
alone. I don't see why we have all this talk about eugenics. 
A child is a thing of the past. The poor are too busy getting 
money and the rich too busy spending it to bother with heirs. 

Jane. I would just love to be a grandmother. I wouldn't 
want to be a mother. They have to work too hard. 

MiN. No reasonable person would want a child without 
keeping two nurse-maids, a governess and a resident physician. 

Nan. My heir wouldn't need them. 

MiN. {turning on her superciliously) . And why — pray ? 

Nan. {aside to El.). Now watch Minnette flare. {Be fids 
over MiN.'s chair.) Because he wouldn't have a Timothy for 
a father. 

MiN. {rising indignantly). Indeed ! I am sure Timothy is 
equal morally, physically and intellectually to any one you will 
marry. 

Nan. Good little girl. That is what I wanted you to 
say. You and Timothy will "live happy forever after" some 
day. 

MiN. I surely don't intend to go back to him. 

Nan. How would you feel if he had found an affinity ? 

MiN. {going up with pitcher). I wouldn't worry. He 
would get tired of her. Business is a wife's only real rival. 
No man gets tired of stocks till he's broke or dead. \_Exit, r. 

Jane {entering c). There is a man out there who talks 
with a limp. He says somelliiiig about poultry, but he stutters 
so I can't tell n-helher he wants to buy or sell. {Exits C.,/<?/- 
lo7C'ed l>y Na-n. Jai^e puts head in zaindow, k.) Here comes 
Gracious leading a ram. 



34 



THE FARMERETTE 



(Gra. off C. shouts y '' Whoay who a," then puts head in 
window, L., with a rope in her hand.) 

El. What are you doing with a ram? 

Gra. Miss Nan say she wanted the butter. If dat ain't a 
butter Ah miss ma guess. He was pay in' me considerable at- 
tention with his horns. But Gracious Ann Bean am somewhat 
ob an inventress. Ah lassoo him with de clothes line an' dig 
him playfully in de ribs with de pitchfork, an' den he come 
along jes' like a lamb. 

El. She wanted the butter. Butter for bread. We have 
been keeping it down at the spring house to keep it cold. 

Gra. {laughing). Oh, den Ah'll hab to appologise to dat 
ram fo' disturbin' him. {^Withdraws head.) 

Jane {entering q,.). How tired that stuttering man must get 
of hearing himself talk. He said something about a college 
being built near here. Do you suppose it could be true ? 
Wouldn't it be queer if by ''making the most of the spot 
whereon we stand " we were to be in a college settlement? 

El. Jane, dust those cobwebs out of your brain. You've 
got an educational bee in your bonnet. 

MiN. {entering R.). Jane, won't you please take that bowl 
out of here ? {^Crosses and lies on sofa.') 

Jane (aside to El., as she passes with bowl). I would like 
to be something more than a Lady in Waiting to Princess Min- 
nette. \_Exit, R. 

Enter Nan, c, and comes down triumphantly. 

Nan. You have always laughed at me for not killing that 
little mongrel, *' Puss." Virtue is its own reward. '' Puss " is 
a born saleslady. She just stood alongside of my pure Ply- 
mouth Rocks and the deed was **did." No man, even if he 
did " talk with a limp," wanted plain ordinary hens after see- 
ing "Puss" beside my prize birds. 

El. I don't see how you could understand him. 

Nan. I didn't need to. {Displays mofiey.) This is the 
universal tongue. All that for six birds. 

El. Jane said he stuttered something about a college being 
built near here. 

Nan. Yes, on Dearborn Hill, and a railroad station down 
at the foot of our pine grove. I think the man was talking in 
his sleep. 



THE FARMERETTE 35 

El. Old Dearborn wouldn't sell enough land for a wheel- 
barrow path, to say notlung of a college and railroad slalioii. 

Gra. {entering C, with dress and hat in shreds). Wow ! 
Wow ! {^Enter Min., c. ) Disam ma unlucky day, sho enuff. 
When Ah took dat ram back Ah tried to make friends wiih a 
dark brown cow dat was ober in de neighbor's pasture. 

{Pauses for breath.) 

El. What was the matter with the cow ? 

Gra. Dar wa'n't nuffin de matter with dat cow 'cept it was 
a bull. 

Nan {looking at Gra.'s red dress). And you were wearing 
a danger signal. 

Gra. He scrambled ober dat fence like he was a snake, an' 
we ran a race up to de barn. {Illustrates with strides that 
bring her down c. ) Ah guess he'd got dar first, but Ah dim' 
a tree. Ah ain't much on calicothenics, but Ah went up in 
shreds. De tree Ah clum was a thorn apple. 

Nan. Where did the bull go ? 

Gra. He went down to play tag with Miss Minnette's Fido. 

MiN. {springing uf). My Fido ! I must go and rescue 
him. 

{Goes up and looks out window ^ l., theft rushes to door^ c. 
Nan is there before her.) 

Nan. Wait, wait I If you attempt to rescue Fido, who will 
rescue you ? 

Min. Fido can't climb trees. Would you have me desert 
him in his hour of need ? 

Joe. {entering c, excitedly). Come quick. Nan; the hens 
are all a-lying at once. Laying on their backs all over the yard. 

{Runs off c.) 

Jane {putting head in window, r.). The hens are dying. 

{Withdraws head.) 

Nan. Oh, no, no, no. What is the matter ? 

{Runs off c.y followed by El.) 

Min. {at window, l.). The ungrateful things. After all 
Nan's done for them. {Turns to Gra.) You don't suppose 
they've got the measles? 

Gra. {at window r.). Hens hab de measles ! Ah clar 



36 THE FARMERETTE 

for't a hen's a luxurious critter, but Ah neber heard tell ob one 
indulgincin' in measles. 

MiN. Do you catch anything ? 

Gra. {coming down c). Ah caught de spendercitis and 
eat so many chickens Ah had de chicken-pox. {Draws her- 
self up proudly.) Oh, yes, we has disease latest fashion same 
as white folks. 

Nan (entering C.y coming down c). Gracious, what did you 
give those hens for dinner ? 

Gra. {her hands upraised ifi terror). Miss Nan, Ah neber 
poison yo' chickens. {Goes down on knees.) Oh, Miss Nan, 
Ah gib dem good white food — same as yo'self. 

Nan. I know you wouldn't poison my chickens, but what 
did you feed them ? 

Gra. Ah neber gave dem no cabbage nor no baked beans. 
If dey's got the dyspepsia dey neber got it from me. Dey ain't 
eat nuffin but some grain dat dropped off a team dat was passin' 
by. {Looks out window, l.) Oh, my ! See dat hen spinnin' 
'round like a top. Ah know it ain't Christian to laugh, but Ah 
jes' can't help it. Wha, ha, ha ! 

MiN. Why, Nan, they are nearly standing on their heads. 

Nan. They stand on anything but their feet. 

Jane {rushing ifi c). Oh, my ! It's so funny ! But what 
are you going to do ? 

Nan. What can I do with a lot of hens spinning round 
like circus clowns? 

Joe. They've got the blind staggers. Get the books and 
find out what to do. {Goes to desk and opens large book.) 
It's the roup — I'll bet it's the roup. 

Gra. No, it ain't no croup, miss ; dey would get out ob 
breath. 

(Nan drops into chair, c, and laughs.) 

Joe. {coming down l.). Nan, do something. 

Nan. I can't. They don't seem to be suffering. 

Jane {at window, "R.). They're enjoying themselves. They 
are dancing the Tango. 

Nan. I might turn the hose on them and sober them up. 

Jane {coming down r.). You know what it is all the time. 
You aren't a bit worried. 

Nan. No, dear, I smelled their breath. Gracious let them 
out to get the grain that dropped off a team. It was brewers' 
grain. The hens went on a spree. They are all drunk. 



THE FARMERETTE 



37 



Joe. {donbling up with laughter'). Oh, my ! Oh, my ! 
Let's go out and watch the fun. \^Exit, c. 

MiN. Poor Timothy ! I hope nobody'U feed him brewers' 
grain. 

Jane {aside to Nan). Her subconscious mind must turn 
handsprings. Even crazy hens remind her of Tim. 

Nan {c omp let ifig the name of Timothy). 0-thy. 

Jane Qnaking face and curtsying). 0-thy. 

Joe. {putting head in window, R.). Here's the mail man. 

(Nan takes letters from desk and runs off c, followed by all 
but Gra.) 

Gra. {ope fling fnagazine). Ah's jes* goin' to take a peek at 
dis book. Dar ain't no object so interestin' to de female mind 
as how to be beautiful. If white folks whiten dar faces Ah 
doan see why we shouldn't black. {Sits o?i edge of chair and 
reads.) Five times fo' the neck, and as many more times fo' 
the arms as yo' find {puzzled over word; thinking she knows 
word and griftnifig) explicable. Oh, yah, explicable. (Puts 
down magazifie, stands facifig toward "R., and goes through ex- 
ercises. Joe. appears at window, l., and 7vatches her in 
amazement as she runs head forward five times, twists head 
from side to side five times, and does arm exercises furiously. 
Joe. gives frighteiied look and disappears. Gra. stops.) Ah 
doan believe Ah's strong enough to be beautiful. ( Wipes fore- 
head with apron.) It am powerful hard work. \_Exit, r. 

Enter, e., cautiously, Joe., Nan andEu 

Joe. She's crazy, I tell you. Watch and see. 
El. {looking off r.). She's coming back. 

{They all rush out c. Gra. e^iters r. with carpet-sweeper, 
ties her head up in bandanna and puts carpet-sweeper in 
corner, r.) 

Gra. (cojning dotvn e.). Ah'll try it again. Perhaps it 
ain't such hard work as it seems. (Joe., Nan and'Ei.. look in 
door e. as she exercises seriously but grotesquely.) Dar ain't 
no exercis' goin' to get de best ob Gracious Ann Bean. No, 
sah. Ah'll jes' make believe Ah's swattin' Mrs. Beckwith. If 
she was on dis table, reposin' on fly-paper, Ah'd swat her jes* 
like (lis. (Gives table sounding thump.) Ough ! {Puts 
fingers in mouth. Nan and others look frightened when she 



38 THE FARMERETTE 

strikes table but laugh when she puts fingers in mouth.) All 
dat exercising {looking in mirror) an' Ah doan look no more 
beautiful. 

{Sees girls in mirror and turns on them suddenly.) 

Nan {coming down laughing). Gracious, what seems to be 
the trouble ? 

Gra. Ah was tryin' calicothenics, miss, to make maself 
beautiful. Yo' see Ah neber had no yellocution and Miss 
Minnette say exercise would devil-up folks. 

Nan. We think you are beautiful enough. The carpet- 
sweeper is great to devil-up folks. 

Enter MiN., c, with letters. Jane follows her on with pan 
of apples and two knives. Jane and Joc. sit on sofa and 
pare apples during following. Gra. exits R. El. exits C. 

MiN. What do you think? I've got a letter from Tim. 
{Kisses it.) You don't know how I've missed him. (Sudden 
change of tone.) If I don't scold him for not writing before. 
The mean, selfish man. 

Nan. You are going back ? 

MiN. Of course. I never meant to do anything else. 

Nan. What about the affinity ? 

MiN. Pshaw! {Frankly.) 1 had forgotten all about him. 
With all his failing Tim's a man and can keep a roof over my 
head. 

Nan (aside). And she calls him Tim. (Aloud.) I sup- 
pose you will be glad to get back to the city. 

MiN. Indeed I won't. I have grown to love that speckled 
hen vvith the wicked wink. Every time I feed her she winks 
at me. And I adore the big pig. What shall I do with my- 
self all day? 

Nan. You can count the bricks in the neighboring chimneys 
and be thankful you weren't the man who had to put them 
there. 

Min. You are simply heartless. 

Nan {putting arm around her). I am not half as bad as I 
sound, i wish I could tell you something good and useful to 
do. Why not try to make Tim happy ? 

Min. {jerking aivay from her). What's the matter with 
his trying to make me happy ? 

Nan. But if he won't — it's up to you. It takes two to 



THE FARMERETTE 



39 



make a failure of matrimony. The happiness of one is an as- 
sured fact. 

MiN. By the other making a door mat of herself. 

Nan. Even a door mat is a useful and comforting thing, but 
I never yet saw a useful or comforting nettle. 

MiN. So you think I'm a nettle. 

Nan {laiighbig a?td patting her cheeJz). I didn't say so. 
But perhaps you nettle Tim — {adding hastily) o-thy. Perhaps 
if you bring his slippers for him 

MiN. I am a wife — not a valet. Besides, I know Tim 
better than you do. If I should fetch his slippers he would 
expect me to shave him and lace his boots. He is getting 

lonesome. {Reads.) In the winter it was {Speaks.) I 

must not read you that word but it means excruciatingly warm. 

{Reads.) to come home and find the steam on and no 

windows open. If I turned the heat off before I went to work, 
then the place was like a tomb, and after I got home I used to sit 
on the radiator for a while, mope around and look at your 
clothes. I wouldn't feel so bad if you had gone home to your 
mother — at least you would be in the prevailing style — but to 
have you go home to your sisters is tragic. When you come 

back {Speaks.) Just as if he knew I would. (Reads.) 

I will send Nan a good bunch of money for your board. I will 
meet you at the train Thursday if that will be convenient for 
you. 

Nan {frying to hide amuse7nent). Of course you won't go. 

MiN. Why not ? He is my husband. After all there is 
nobody like your own husband, and when he is roasting or 
freezing in a city suite 

Nan. What about the hens ? 

MiN. Well, the hens won't have to roost on radiators. I 
believe Tim would like to come to the country. He shall have 
a farm of his own — or more correctly — my own with some golf 
links to keep the cows on and while he is resting he can do the 
milking. When I let the hens in on the links he can see that 
they don't stray away. Oh, Timothy can be very useful. 

Nan. You would pitch the hay, I suppose. 

MiN. I would lose some golf balls underneath the hay. 
Tim would pitch it onto the load for the sake of finding the 
balls. Oh, you aren't the only one who can run a fiirm. 

[Exit, c. 

Nan. I can run a farm nil right but I don't know as much 
as she does about running a man. 



40 THE FARMERETTE 

MiN. (j'eentering). I forgot. Here's a letter for you. 
{Gives letter and tosses paper to Jane.) And a paper. 

\^Exit, R. 

(Nan opens a7id reads letter^ then turns to girls.') 

Nan. It's from Lawyer Sampson. He says we will have to 
pay that three hundred dollars. Mrs. Beckwith may put an 
attachment on the place any time. 

Jane (^after glancing at paper). Why, girls, it's all true — 
what that stutterer said. Old Mr. Dearborn is dead and has 
left Dearborn Hill for the site of an immense college for 
women. See, he even left the plans. {All crowd around 
Jane.) This says the trustees regret that there wasn't more 
land as a railroad station is to be built on part of it. 

Nan {falling into chair c). It is like a fairy story. Our 
market coming to our very door. Mother was right in holding 
onto this place. 

Jane. You have done some holding on yourself. 

Nan. We would be all right if it wasn't for Mrs. Beckwith. 
Nothing will ever annoy me more than having to pay that 
money. She knows we don't owe it. Oh, it seems to me I 
would give everything we may have ahead of us to get the best 
of her. {Goes up c.) That woman has gotten on my nerves. 

\^Exit, K. 

Jane. Probably we will get a call from her to-day. 

Joe. (holding up piece of apple). Here's hoping she'll meet 
the bull on the way up. {Drops piece of apple into mouth.) 

Gra. {entering c. excitedly). Ah clar for't, dar's a sho 
enuff chicken thief around here, if he ain't a ghost. Maybe 
it's one ob those things yo' call ancertors. He must be near 
starbed fo' he stole Miss Elnora's apples. Took dat pan right 
under her face and nose, but she's pared some more and 
cooked 'em up. 

Joe. She has pared and cooked apples while we were doing 
these. I knew we weren't exceeding the speed limit but that's 
what I get for being industrious. {Goes up and gives pan to 
Gra.) Here's the old apples that I took before her face and 



nose. 



{Sits at desk. Mm. enters r.) 



Gra. Ah's reliebed. If dar was a family ancestorial ghost 
around here, he'd be eatin' up eberything an' Ah only hired 
out to cook fo' five in de fam'ly. \_Exif, e. 



THE FARMERETTE 4' 

MiN Oh, these domestics. They won't even allow us to 

"^^Kt" Thi; wouw'starve our ghost into skeletons in the 

^'°Gra, {reentering). Fo' de Ian' sake ! Here comes dat ole 
marm Beckwith. 

(Joe. lakes Ions strides down L. and sits on «A G^A 
comes down c. and dives behind sofa with apples. If 
aZles scalier Joe. should pick them up and throw them 
iehind sofa. Gra. should be ,uieldur,ng thefollowmg. 

She should not spoil Nan's scene *.^/";'«.>'/""«";-„ J^ 
runs out R. Mm. goes behind head of sofa and stands flcU 
against wall, not wishing to attract attention. Mrs. B. 
enters c. and looks about.) 

Mrs B. Where is Gracious? I suppose you think you 
have done a nice thing in stealing my servant. Do you reahze 
that she was my servant for three years ? 

Nan. That was her misfortune—not her fault 
Mrs B Oh, you think you have the laugh on me, but 
wait— just wait. The sheriff is on his way up here. 

Nan At last you are going to enjoy yourselt. ^ 

Mrs.' B 1 told you I would cripple you and I am gomg to 

"^""nan (facing her resolutely). You may cripple my farm 
you may cripple my hens, but you will not cripple me. Nan 

''tTl i^S ^- We'll see I We'll see, iE.it a 
Nan {looking off after her). The creature ! ( Throws whole 
matta- off mind and comes down to Joe.) 1 am so glad you 
Te havifg your work appreciated. Fifty farmers will be de- 
pending on my little Bugologist next spring. 

]0C {rising and putting arms around Nan). Oh, Man, 

how can vou think about me? ^ r „, „^h 

Vm (resting head on Joe's shoulder in a moment of weak- 

nl\ It makes me heart-sick to have to be beaten by an evil 

woman. All for a scrap of paper with Mr. Beckw.th s s.gna- 

'" Mm. {coming down c). What did you say about a scrap 

°^^Z^]cro.un^ to her\ We have tried not to worry you 
with our^'rSs, but eier since you came here we have been 



42 THE FARMERETTE 

hunting for a receipt given by Mr. Beckwith to mother for that 
three hundred dollars. 

MiN. I curled my hair with a receipt that was up in that 
vase. 

Joe. Good gracious — when? 

MiN. Christmas Eve. Why didn't you say you were hunt- 
ing for a receipt ? 

Nan {excitedly). Then what did you do with it ? 

MiN. Burned it up. (Joe. and Nan tur7i away to hide 
emotion. MiN. touches Nan 07i shoulder.') How was I to 
know? 

Nan (cofning down e.). She is right, Jocelyn; how was she 
to know ? Now let's forget it. Life is too short to worry about 
trifles. The world is still whirling in space and we'll continue 
to hang on by our feet. 

{Exits c, followed by Joe. a7id Min. Gra. comes out from 
behi?id sofa gesticulatifig wildly.) 

Gra. Ah jes' can't stand it. De conivingcations ob dat 
Beckwith woman am something extemperanious. She's bent 
on de devil's business. {Fats herself gently.) Gracious ! 
Gracious ! Doan yo' lose yo' Christian spirit. Harness yo' 
mad up to dat carpet-sweeper before yo' call dat woman none 
ob de names yo' am thinkin'. (Uses carpet-sweeper vigor- 
ously. Stops and leans on it.) What's Ah goin' to do to save 
those poor white lambs from dat roarin' lion? Lion! She's 
a — Ohoo {Puts hand over mouth to stop words.) 

El. {e?itering c., cofning down R.). Well, Gracious, you cer- 
tainly are having a house cleaning. 

Gra. Yes, miss. Ah's tryin' to freshen up ma spirits. 
All's tryin' to keep the moths out ob ma soul. 

El. Is something troubling you ? 

Gra. It ain't no thing, miss. It's a pusson. A work ob 
de devil, stalkin' round on two legs. Miss Elnora, Ah's got 
religion enough fo' Sundays, but Ah ain't got much fo' week 
days. Ah's forgivin' enough when folks ain't doin' nuffin to 
me, but when dey's standin' on ma corns Ah jes' gets hoppin* 
mad. 

El. Have the girls been bothering you ? 

Gra. No, miss. It's about dat paper what says yo* ma 
owed three hundred dollars. If yo' can't find it Ah's goin* to 
pay it. It's one ob dat Beckwith woman's configurations. 
Ah's got three hundred dollars and it's for yo*. 



THE FARMERETTE 43 



El. How good you are ! 

Gra. Ah's saved it, miss, jes' by dints an scribbles. Ah 
was savin' it fo' ma vveddin' dress. 

El. (dropping into chair). Are you gom to leave us f 
Gra. 'Deed Ah ain't, honey. Twenty-mule-team horse- 
power couldn't drag me away. 

El. But your wedding dress ? j o • 

Gra Ah was jes' goin' to have dat on hand, bome time 
if Ah should meet a regular Angelo Belvidere ob a man and he 
should think me as beautiful as Lillian Russel, ma eugenics 
and eberything might be all ready and Ah might not hab no 
weddin' dress. 

El. But what if you never married ? 

Gra. Now doan yo' put no such bad luck into^ ma head. 
Ah doan see no use ob bein' deprived ob a weddin dress jes 
because yo' is deprived ob a husband. 

El You must keep your money for your dress. 
Gra Ah'd rather get ahead ob dat o\Q—(putftfig hand 
over mouth) dat Mrs. Beckwith, dan wear a griddle round ma 
waist set with blue diamonds. 

El Keep your money in the bank. You may need it. 

Gra. It ain't in no bank. It's in a better place. 

(^Goes behind sofa and takes money from stocking. Comes 

down and offers it to El.) 
El. We can't take your money. But I am proud— proud 
to know we have such a friend. 

Gra. Ma heart's jes' breakin' fo* yo' motherless lambs. 

What can Ah do fo' yo' ? . , , tr .u 

El What you have been doing right along. Keep the 
house clean, give us good nourishing food. Housework isn't 
drudgery, you know; it's a profession. Help us to keep up 
our courage and not to hate Mrs. Beckwith. Hate breeds 
poison in the blood. ^ , t i i 

Gka Den Ah jes' as lieve be poisoned. It s a luxury 
worth payin' for to hate dat ole cat. Ah'll do all de rest ob it 
but dat about dat Beckwith hen. If yo' doan put a cannon 
cracker under her Ah'll do it maself. , , ^ ... 

El (tnr?ii?ig aimy to hide laughter, then back, seriously). 
You had better calm down a little before you do the dusting. 
I am afraid you would break something. 

Gra. Ah neber does de dustin' in here. Miss Nans 
scared ob these 'looms. 



44 THE FARMERETTE 

El. Yes, the heirlooms. Those things are very precious. 
That teapot is not an heirloom, but mother had her tea from it 
sometimes when she was ill. 

Gra. Miss Jocelyn she does the dustin'. 

El. Then you do it to-day. I know a thing or two about 
Jocelyn' s dusting. 

(El. exits r. Gra. dusts ornaments on mantelpiece.^ 

Gra. Well, Ah should say ! Dirt ! Dirt ! Dirt ! 'Specs 
these things wouldn't bring forty-nine cents at a bargain coun- 
ter. Ah ain't no use fo' 'looms, maself. Dey's spook things. 
{Takes down teapot.) Ah've a good mind to put dat money 
down in de teapot an' let 'em think their ma put it dar. {Goes to 
put teapot back on 7?ianteipiece and drops it. Nan enters c, 
followed by El., Min., Joe. ^«^ Jane.) Oh, Miss Nan, Ah's 
so sorry. Ah neber can hold up ma head again. 

{Picks up pieces atid lays them on table. The receipt is 
wedged into nose of teapot.) 

Nan. {seizing receipt). Girls, it's the receipt ! {Reads.) 
Of Mrs. Aubrey Wellington in payment of note for three hun- 
dred dollars. Signed, Phihp Beckwith. [Speaks.) Gracious, 
you have saved us. 

Gra. {puzzled). Why, Ah's broked the teapot. 

Nan. But this was the paper we wanted. We won't have 
to pay Mrs. Beckwith any money. 

Mrs. B. {entering c, coming down c). Well, little Miss 
Farmerette, the sheriff is here. 

Nan {coming down L.). He is going to be spared a whole 
lot of trouble. 

Joe. {coming down r.). And you are going to be spared a 
whole lot of joy. 

Nan. For here is the receipt. {Shows it. Mrs. B. makes 
move to destroy it. N ah passes it to El.) Oh, no, you don't. 

Mrs. B. You have forged it ! 

Nan. If you want to raise that question bring in your 
sheriff and I will have you up for defamation of character. 

El. You know that is your husband's writing. 

Nan. We have some more news that may make you feel 
happy. I have just had a message from the trustees of the 
Dearborn estate. They w; nt to buy our old sheep pasture for 



THE FARMERETTE 45 

college dormitories. They offer us more for it than was ever 
offered for the farm and buildings. 

Mrs. B. Oh, " Satan looks after his own." 

Nan. Then there's hope for you. 

(Mrs. B. gives look of haired and exits c.) 

Joe. Nan, was that the truth ? 

Nan. Yes, we have the offer of three thousand dollars. 

El. And we're going to take it. 

Jane. We'll give the biggest barn dance that was ever 

given 

Joe. In honor of The Farmerette. 

(All Join hands and dance around Nan to lively music.) 



CURTAIN 



New plays 



RED ACRE FARM 

A Rural Comedy Drama in Three Acts 

By Gordan V, May 

Author of " Bar Hav 671,' ' ''At Random Run," etc. 

Seven males, five females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, one interior^ 

one exterior. Plays two hours. An easy and entertaining play with a 

well-balanced cast of characters. The story is strong and sympathetic and 

the comedy element varied and amusing. Barnaby Strutt is a great part 

for a good comedian ; " Junior " a close second. Strongly recommended. 

Price, 2^ cents 

CHARACTERS 
JosiAH Armstrong, the owner of Red Acre Farm. 
Colonel Barnaby Stkutt, "Crawling Codwollopers,"" 
Jonah Jones, a farm helper. 
Squire Harcoukt, who holds a ynorlgage. 
Harry Harcourt, his profligate son. 
Dick Randall, who seeks his fortune. 
Tom Busby, a traveling merchant. 
Amanda Armstrong, Josians wife. 
Nellie Armstrong, driven from home. 
Laura Armstrong, a poor, weak sitiner. 
Mrs. Barnaby Strutt, the Colonel's wife. 
*• Junior," adopted daughter of the Si'-^utts. 

SYNOPSIS 
Act I. — Living-room of Armstrong's home. Spring, 
Act n. — Garden in front of Armstrong's home. Summetc 
Act in. — Same as Act I. Winter. 

THE SPEED LIMIT 

A Sketch in Two Scenes 
By Ernest M. Gould 
Five males. Costumes, modern ; scenery, unnecessary. Plays twenty 
minutes. A good-natured and effective skit on automobiling, very funny 
and very easy to get up. It requires no scenery or stage, but can be done 
on a platform just as well. Its fun is extravagant, but it is otherwist 
suited for school performance. Price, /j cents 

« WILLIAM" 

A Farce in One Act 

By W. C. Parker 

Two males, two females. Costumes, modern ; scene, an interior. 

Plays twenty minutes. A brisk little piece of the vaudeville order, easy 

and full of laughs. All three parts are good ; strongly recommended 

Price, A3 ients 



New Flays 



HOW JIM MADE GOOD 

A Comedy-Drama in Four Acts 
By Charles S. Bird 
Seven males, three females ; two male parts can be doubled. Costumes, 
modern; scenery, three interiors. Plays two hours. An unusually sym- 
pathetic play, well suited to amateurs. Clean and easy to get up. Recom 
mended to high schools. All the parts are good. 
Price, 25 cents 

CHARACTERS 
{As originallY produced December g, igio, in the Opera House, 
Natrona, Pa., for the benefit of the Ladies Industrial So- 
ciety of the Natrona Presbyterian Church.") 

Eben Love joy, of Hillside farm . . . . C S. Bird. 

Jim Jones, a farm hand: good as gold . . Edward Lemon. 

Walter Wayne, the new schoolmaster . . . Poy Cook. 

Steve Hammond, a ne' er-do-well ; Eben s nephew . Edward Dean. 

Si Staples, landlord of the Hillside Hotel . . Jacob Carr. 

J ABEZ Elder, a member of the schoolboard | ^^^^^^^^^ ^^^^.^ 

A Y^KM.^, who makes good . . . \ 

Mrs. Lovejoy, Eben s wife, who believes in Jim . Agnes Bird 

Lucy Lovejoy, her daughter, whom you cant help 

loving . . " Mabel Sneb old 

Cora Harlow, the Lovejoys ''help " / « born tease. Mary Larson 

SYNOPSIS 
Act L — Sitting-room at Hillside Farm. 
Act n. — The Lovejoys' Kitchen. 
Act HL— Office of the Hillside Hotel. 
Act IV.— Same as Act L 

ALL ABOUT ADAM 

A Comedy in Two Acts 

By Alice C. Thompson 

One male, five females. Costumes, modern; scenery, two interiors. 

Plays one hour. A very easy and eft'ective play of that much wanted 

:lass that calls for more women than men. Just a sweet, clean little play 

iuited to any one that wants something nice and wholesome. 

Price, 75 cents 

AN ALARM OF FIRE 

A Farce in One Act 

By H S. Griffith 

Three males, five females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, one interior. 

Plays thirty minutes. A capital little piece narrating the incidents of an 

interrupted proposal. All parts good ; one very effective stuttering chan 

^cter. Clean, bright and amusing. Can be recommended for schools. 

Price, iji cents 



JI. 01. Pinero's Plays 

Price, 50 Cents Gacb 



milTVriJ A fJMPT I'l'^y in Four Acts. Six m*l«e, five feraaloe. 
lTliLr*vn/\i«ii£iLt Ooetumes, modern; soeaery, three interiors. 
Playa two and a half hoars. 

THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSBUTH ^T^'l^^^t 

mftles, fire females. Costumes, modem; soenery, all interiors. 



Acts. Eight 
Costumes, modem; so«ner 
Plays a fall evening. 



TUr POnri IP ATK" Play in Four Acta. Seven males, five 
1 ni:< riVUrLilU/^ l £• females. Soenery,thre« interiors, rather 
•laborate ; costumea, modern. Plays a full evening. 

TUr CrUAfll MIQTPrQQ Farce in Three Acta. Nine males, 
gntt DCnUULlfiiD 1 IvCOO seven females. Ooetumes, mod- 
em; scenery, three interiors. Plays a full evening. • 

THE SECOND MRS. TANQUERAY ^^i^Ii^Xi 

females. Costumes, modem; scenery, three interiors. Plays a 
faU evening. 

QWFFT I AVCNfnFP Comedyin Three Acts. Seven males, 
UTTCtCiI Li/\ ? JullUEiIV four females. Scene, a single interior, 
000 tomes, modem. Plays a full evening. 

TUV TUf TMnrDnffcl T comedy In Four Acts. Ten malea, 
InEi inUilUHIvDULl nine females. Scenery, three interi- 
ors; costumes, modern. Plays a full evening. 

THF TIMFQ Comedy in Potir Acts. Six males, seven females. 
1 Ilu 1 llTl£iO Scene, a single interior ; costiunes, modern. Plays 
ft fall evening. 

Tin? Wl? AirrP QFY comedy in Three Acts. Eight males, 
IflD TTILAEVXiIV iJ£tA eight females. Costumes, modern; 
•oenery, two interiors. Plays a full evening. 

AWirr WminiTT a QMII r comedy in Three Acts. 
fflrL fylltlUUl A OmiLL pire males, four females. 
Ooflttimes, modern ; scene, a single interior. Plays a toll evening. 



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THB AWAirPVUtfA Play ^ ^o^r -A-ctB. By C. H. Chambkm. 
lUC ATrAlkCnii^U Four maleB, six lemales. Scenery, not diffi- 
cult, chiefly interiors ; oostumes, modern. Playg a full evening. 
Price, 60 Cents. 

THE FRUITS OF ENUfiBTENHENT i°Tilx!fToT°'?wX 

one males, eleven females. Scenery, olmraoterlBtlo interiors ; cos- 
tumes, modem. Plajs a full eveziing. Recommended for reading 
olulw. Price, 25 Cents. 

HIS EXCELENCY THE fiOVERNOR ^'S^nl^r^t°\1l 

males, three females. CoBtumes, modem ; scenery, one interior. 
Acting rights reserved. Time, a full evening. Price, 60 Cents. 

kV mi; if HfTCRAim comedy in Four Acts. ByOsOABWiLDK. 
An WEiAlt UVjDAvW Nine males, six females. Costumes, mod- 
ern ; scenery, three interiors. Plays a full evening. Acting righte 
reserved. &old for reading. Price, 50 Cents. 

THE IMPORTANCE OF BEM EARNEST ^U." i^ ^'^'S 

WiLlDB. Five males, four females. Costumee, modem ; scenes, two 
interiors and an exterior. Plays a full evening. Acting rights re- 
served. Price, 60 Cents. 

LAM WINDERMERE'S PAN ^rLSii""sl'?St°2-«.^ZiS:°^ 

males. Costumes, modem ; scenery, three Interiors. Plays a taU 
evening. Acting rights reserved. Price, 60 Cents* 

M i TH AM H A 1 B Play in Four Acts. By Clydb Pitch, nf teen 
nAlIlAn llAWG males, four females. Costumes of the eighteenth 
century in America. Scenery, four interiors and two exteriors. Act- 
ing rights reserved. Plays a full evening. Price, 60 Cents. 

THC ftTflUD IIPTTAW Comedy in Three Acts. ByM.B.HoBJfB. 
inc UlilCfi rELLlFTT Six males, four females. Scenery, two 
Interiors ; costiAmeB, modem. Professional stage rlghttr reserved. 
Plays a full evonlng. Pi ice, 50 Cents. 

THE TYRANNY OP TEARS gS^/^!S.^^rtl!fes,S;S It 

males. Scenery, an Interior and an exterior; costumes, modem. 
Acting righte reserved. Plays a full erening. Price, 60 Cents. 

A WOMAN OF NO IMPORTANCE ^?!SVSlrk^^rk^J. 

seven females. Oofitrunes, modem ; scenery, three Interiors and an 
exterior. Piays a full evening. Stage rights reserved. Offered for 
reading only. Price, 60 Cents. 



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